


packin' heat

by ficfucker



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Trans Male Character, bathrooom sex, hi guys im back from the dead, trans!Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: ryan battles dysphoria as best he can





	packin' heat

Ryan spends more time than needed in the bathroom that morning; with him ahead in Unsolved edits and Shane finished a week early for Ruining History, neither of them have to be at the office until 10. 

So Ryan takes his time, carefully shaving his face, admiring the short, black stubble on his cheeks and neck before drawing them away in long vertical strips with his razor. Being a “late bloomer”, Ryan takes great pride in acts like these. 

He trims his pubic hair next. He uses silver styling scissors to shorten his bush, the hair dark and curly, clipping it short and neat so his t-cock sticks out in an even more prominent way than before. 

Ryan lotions. His hands, his elbows, his top surgery scars, the soles of his feet. Shane has this thick, fancy bottle of Dove lotion, only sold in blue, pocket-sized discs, that he uses for sunburns and occasional eczema flares, and Ryan indulges. 

In the bedroom next to him, Ryan can hear Shane talking to himself.

Or rather, talking to his laptop. Shane regularly streams horror game plays, favoriting the

Youtuber Mr. Kravin, and likes to voice his two cents about shitty indie games, commenting on haunted rooms or ghost children, as if Kravin can actually hear him. 

Ryan smiles to himself, 

He’s so thankful to have Shane, his heart all lavender and honey.  

Today, he is combating dysphoria by grooming, reminding himself he is a man, that his body is beautiful and deserves exactly this kind of care. He woke up feeling gross, feeling repulsed by himself, so he stumbled into the bathroom and forced a shower. 

“Breakfast?” Ryan asks, walking out of the bathroom in just his briefs. 

Shane glances up and his eyes immediately, unabashedly, waver over Ryan’s body. “Here or out, because I don't think you’re exactly dressed for public success right now.”

Ryan beams, going through their shared dresser, looking for a specific white t-shirt that makes a specific sasquatchian boyfriend stare. “Am I dressed for private success then?”

Shane kind of chuckles. “Yeah, a successful blowjob if you keep leaning over like that, maybe.” 

This gets a wonderful jolt of heat to twist through Ryan’s stomach and down to his groin. He stands, holding the shirt in one hand, his almost overly-tight jeans in the other. “I’m still thinking about breakfast, Madej. I’m on the topic of a McMuffin here,” he says, smug, in exactly the way that drives Shane nuts. 

“With sausage, right?” Shane asks, grinning. He closes his laptop, but keeps it over his legs. 

Ryan worms his head through his shirt. It clings to him in the best way, his dysphoria melting under the gaze of Shane. “Of course.” 

  
  


While Shane is in the kitchen making pancakes for the two of them, Ryan sneaks back into the bathroom with the strap on harness he ordered a few weeks ago but never felt brave enough to wear, and his packer. It’s flaccid and incredibly stretchy, they discovered, when Shane took it and twirled it in his hand like a helicopter blade, and they both exploded into laughter. 

He steps into the harness and pulls it up, the straps outlining his hips and the cup of his asscheeks, centering all attention between his legs with a hole fit to hold a synthetic cock. He slides the packer in place, taking a few minutes to adjust, then a few more minutes admiring how it looks in the mirror. 

His packer is fairly realistic and with the snugness of the harness, the base of it presses against his t-cock. He feels confident. He feels less artificial. 

And that’s a major turn on.

He’s sure it will be a turn on for Shane, too. 

  
  


At the office, things move slowly. Shane and Ryan spend most of their late morning at their desks, working out ideas for Post Mortems and answering emails and other somewhat menial things. No one really bothers them, they work in relative silence.

Ryan is having a hard time sitting still. He can’t stop thinking about dragging Shane into the single stall bathroom and have his boyfriend go down on him. He’s praying he isn’t being too obvious, he feels antsy. 

Christ, the thought of Shane’s tongue on his cock is driving him wild. 

“Wanna go out for lunch?” Shane asks, pulling off his headphones and angling his chair towards Ryan. 

Ryan beams, broken from his daydream. “Panera sound good?” he offers. He closes his laptop and finds his glasses, placed on the other side of Shane’s keyboard. 

“Of course.” 

  
  


“She had two miscarriages. I know, like, one was supposed to be a girl, the other, I-I don’t remember, but her kid, at like, I dunno, 4 or 5, starts saying the name of what they were going to name their baby…,” Ryan is saying, a sandwich holstered in one hand, his other waving as he talks. 

Shane nods, watching him. 

“No one told her what her sisters name was going to be, dude, the spirit of her sister was reaching out.” 

Shane rolls his eyes in a frustratingly dismissive way. “Weird things happen all the time, Ryan. I had a cat come back at the age of 21 that left home when I was 6.”

Ryan shoots his boyfriend a fake glare. “This-This is  _ way _ different than an elderly cat trekking its way back to the Madej household.” 

Shane shrugs. “All I’m saying is weird things happen, man, it doesn’t always involve ghosts.”

“It doesn’t always involve dismissing  _ evidence _ , but you’re great at that,” Ryan says, slightly annoyed. 

“I’d sooner say it has to do with sharing the same womb. Biological connection or something. Transfer of energy and-and thoughts.” He sips his pink lemonade and raises his eyebrows at Ryan who blows air out of his mouth. 

Shane must know Ryan is starting to get real-world frustrated with him because he hollows his cheeks around his transparent straw and rolls his eyes into the back of his head, making a god-awful gurgling sound. This is how he lightens the mood. This is how Shane flirts. 

Ryan giggles and when Shane keeps up the act, Ryan is laughing too loud for the small restaurant they’re in, swatting a hand at Shane, begging him to stop before he pops a lung. At the same time, beneath all his wheezing, Ryan can’t help but imagine Shane sucking him off in a similar manner and it’s no help for the half-hard-on he’s been sporting all day. 

Shane grins at him, a lopsided, toothy smile, and takes a bite of his bagel. 

Ryan watches, wiping the tears from his eyes, knowing he’s about to sit there awkwardly for the rest of their lunch because his t-cock is pressing up against the base of his packer and it’s all he’s trained on. 

“Take me to the bathroom?” Ryan blurts out.

Shane gives him a look, but shrugs, says, “Sure,” and stands. 

It’s not too odd of a request; before Ryan started hormones but was still presenting as male, he would ask Shane to tag along in public bathrooms. It made him feel safer. 

In the small alcove designed to host the bathrooms, there are three doors: men, women, and a gender neutral/family stall. Ryan pushes open the gender neutral door and looks over at Shane who’s leaned up against the wall, scrolling through his phone. 

“Shane,” Ryan stage-whispers. 

“Huh?”

“Come in with me,” Ryan says, feeling foolish. And desperate. And horny. 

“Why? It’s a single bathroom. Just lock the door. I’ll wait out here.” 

“N-No, Shane, god, just come in with me.”

“What is this, Ryan? Some new kink? I don’t wanna watch you take a piss, that doesn’t inter-”

Ryan groans and steps out and grabs Shane by the wrist, cutting him off with a sharp, “Would you just shut up for once?” 

In the bathroom, there is a toilet and a simple sink, but it’s spacious enough for the both of them not to feel claustrophobic, for it is meant to be handicap friendly. 

Ryan has Shane by the wrist still and Shane blinks down at him. 

Both of them are silent for a long, bizarre moment. 

“Do I really have to ask for a kiss now, too?” Ryan asks. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you did. You’re cute when you’re desperate,” Shane replies, grinning. He places a large palm to the side of Ryan’s face and rubs the pad of his thumb over Ryan’s lips, maintaining a painfully intimate form of eye contact. 

They kiss, Shane stooping down to reach his boyfriend, and it goes from sweet and chaste to immediately hot-white passionate. Ryan arches his front to Shane’s and Shane stumbles back until he’s erected against the wall behind them. 

Shane is first to pull away and now both his hands are coddling Ryan’s face, his eyes half-lidded, and Ryan’s heart soars. Looking up at his boyfriend, Ryan is hyper aware of how much he loves his boyfriend, outside of the lust, how deeply in love he is. 

“Gonna take any action or are you entranced?” Shane asks, brushing his fingers to the back of Ryan’s hair, smiling a goofy smile. 

“Uh,” Ryan says, and clears his throat. He’s already trembling, already worked up. “I was-I was feeling dysphoric this morning, ya know, so uh…” 

Instead of continuing, Ryan takes hold of Shane’s wrist again and slowly, his grip shuddering, leads his boyfriends palm to the front of his own jeans, so Shane is cupping the subtle bulge formed there by his packer. 

Shane receives the message. “You’re packing today?” he asks and his voice is wonderstruck, dreamlike. 

“Mhm,” Ryan whimpers. He’s suddenly shy. 

Shane flexes his fingers and the packer squishes under his grip, and even though it’s a little silly, a little odd for Shane to be fondling what is essentially a forever flaccid cock, Ryan is aroused. More than aroused. Just that simple touch has him rutting his hips in tiny thrusts to Shane’s palm. 

With one fluid movement, Shane is on his knees and he nuzzles his face to the front of Ryan’s crotch. Ryan huffs a humid breath out and pressed his hand to the top of Shane’s head, gripping his hair hard, not exactly meaning to. 

“I was right,” Shane purrs. “You are incredibly cute when you’re desperate.” 

Ryan groans. “Shut up, Shane.” 

So Shane does. He goes back about his business and works his long, slender fingers to undo Ryan’s fly, running the zipper down it’s little track until it’s drawn loose and Ryan’s pants peel open like a flower. Next, Shane pulls down Ryan’s briefs and reveals his packer, about 3 inches in length, very realistic. 

“Can I? I mean, is it okay to like?” Shane pantomimes a blowjob with a crude movement of his fist and his tongue pressed to his cheek.

Ryan nods, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

Shane presses his open mouth to the head of Ryan’s packer, unaccustomed to the soft, overly-fleshy feeling of it, and takes half of it into his mouth easily. He bobs his head up and down, pressing the base of the packer to Ryan’s t-cock. 

His hips stutter and he humps Shane’s mouth, fisting his hair to keep Shane in place, more dominant and in charge than he’s ever been, without meaning to be. Ryan bites his lip to keep from being vocal, reminding himself that they are, in fact, in a Panera bathroom, and they could get caught at any moment. 

Tapping on the back of Ryan’s thigh, a signal they’ve created to mean “stop” in these situations, Shane pulls back, a little trail of drool oozing from the corner of his mouth. Not speaking and not breaking eye contact, Shane moves the packer out of the way and kisses Ryan’s t-cock. 

Once again, it’s silly and obscene, Ryan’s packer flopped loosely out over Shane’s face, covering his right eye, it’s even a little funny, but in the moment, god, it is hot. And the sudden feeling is unexpected; Ryan gasps and his grip on Shane’s hair grows tighter, like a vice. 

Shane, smiling his goofy smile, rises slowly, taking Ryan’s jeans and boxer up with him and carefully tucking and adjusting Ryan into place. 

Ryan blinks. 

Shane kisses his boyfriend on the cheek, smug, and says, “I’ll finish you off at the office.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys sorry ive been gone so long 
> 
> school is finishing and ive been mad busy and actually having some issues with mental health 
> 
> i checked my tumblr (parttime-ghosthunter) and there were some mentions of my fics (!!) and that kicked me in the ass with motivation and enough ambition to finish this piece, one ive been working on for a while but never having enough inspiration for 
> 
> thank you guys all for the support, means the world to me 
> 
> dont forget to leave comments and kudos 
> 
> also maybe be on the lookout for another shane in a skirt fic ?


End file.
